Five Times Alex Rider met James Bond
by Marwana
Summary: Both are MI6 agents, both get in the strangest situations. 5 times they met.


_This is AU; Alex Rider never left for America, he never stopped working for MI6._  
_It doesn't follow the James Bond story lines either…_

_**Warnings: **language, probable OOCness, slight violence._

**_Disclaimer: _**_The Rights to James Bond belong to the heirs of Ian Flemming, the rights to the films belong to the Broccoli Family and the rights to Alex Rider belong to Anthony Horowitz._

_For those who do not know this: Double-O agents are agents with a license to kill (not a license to get killed!)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Five Times Alex Rider meets James Bond.**

**oOoOoOo**

The first time Alex had met the man known as 007 had been quite by accident, though he still wondered how it could have been an accident.

He had been sent to infiltrate an English gang consisting of _boys_ between the age of fourteen and twenty who had ties to some criminal groups and the mafia on the main land.  
It had taken him three months to climb the social ladder in the gang – months in which he had missed a lot of school and in which he had repeatedly cursed Blunt, MI6, Blunt, Mrs Jones, Blunt, the gang he had been forced to join and Blunt – and he was none the happy with the things he had to do to climb said social ladder.

Stealing, blackmail and torture were business as usual for the gang and he had been exceptional good in at least two of them, courtesy of his uncle and Scorpia.  
But after said three months he had finally reached the rank needed to be send to the main land.

He had been _slightly_ nervous when he heard that he was one of the persons to go to Venice to negotiate joining the criminal network with a local group. Luckily, it wasn't Scorpia, as they had been out of commission ever since his mission in Egypt. Sadly enough, some ex-Scorpia members stationed near Venice had decided to join the group he had been told to negotiate with and he had been recognized almost immediately. He blamed Blunt for that, as the man had told him that he wouldn't need a disguise beyond the small changes like the earrings – which also doubled as explosives – and the fake tattoo on his arm.

And that was how he found himself once again in Venice using the many canals as a way to escape while being hurt in some way. In this case 'hurt' consisted of some graze wounds of bullets and a stab wound in his left leg.  
He swore mentally as he once again had to dunk his head underneath the filthy waterline in an attempt to remain unseen and quickly continued swimming. He dove out of the way of the hull a Venetian gondola – dusk had just broken and due to the fact that it was still light and warm a lot of people wanted to see the romantic lights of the sunset from the canals – and quickly came up for some air.

He looked around carefully from behind the slow moving gondola to see if he could find anyone suspicious and – once he was sure that his pursuers had moved onto another part of Venice – quickly made his way towards the lowest edge of the canal and hoisted himself upon land with some difficulty.

He lay there for about a minute, just to get his breath back, before he quickly and carefully cleaned his wounds. The stab wound on his leg still oozed blood so he wasn't too worried about that one, but the bullet grazes were blocked by the dirt. He cleaned them as well as he could by removing most of the dirt before he turned his full attention onto his surroundings.

He was alone – something he already knew as he had never fully closed himself off from his surroundings – and it took him only seconds before he knew in which part of the city he was. A street name sign caught his eyes and it didn't take him long after that to figure out where the closest safe house was.

He managed to hoist himself onto unsteady legs and hobbled away from the general direction of the canal as fast as he could. The sun, in the meantime had continued its descend down and night had started to fall.

He limped as quickly as he could through the maze of streets and alleys leading to one of the plazas, only to freeze when the sounds of guns being fired reached his ears. He was just one street away from the plaza he needed to reach – the one where the safe house was located at – and he was standing in the very middle of said street.

He quickly hobbled towards the side of the street and carefully made his way closer to the plaza. The sounds of gunfire could still be heard and he quickly figured out from that there were four men – three after the last gun shot – shooting at each other.  
A quick look towards the plaza showed him the exact situation.

The soft lightning of the street lights didn't show faces but he could see well enough to notice that one man was hidden behind one of the pillars of a church while the other two men were hidden behind crates and stalls. Three more men lay on the ground, two dead and one heavily wounded. The one closest the lone man was clearly shot in the head while the two closest to the other two men were shot in the chest - in case of the dead one – or in the stomach – in case of the whimpering one.  
Alex recognized two of the men as being member of the gang he had been forced to join, the other men were complete mysteries to him.

The gunfight went on for a little while until the sound of an empty gun followed by the sounds of soft cursing sounded quite loudly from the side of the lone male.  
The two men hiding behind crates carefully moved away from their positions and made their way over towards the male and a scuffle followed quickly after.  
Alex used the chaos – and the fact that they were completely concentrated on each other – to continue his was towards the safe house. He kept to the shadows all the while and kept his eyes and ears firmly open and locked onto the fighting men.

By the time he had reached the somewhat hidden door leading towards the safe house, the fight was over with one of the three men as the winner.  
Alex shot one last glance towards the man before he quickly slipped inside the house, entered the code into the small panel next to the thick, metal door and limped into the actual safe house.  
The door closed behind him almost soundlessly.

The safe house had everything a spy would need. It had a bathroom, a bedroom and a small lounge with a couch, a telephone and a computer. It was hidden behind a thick, metal door and the walls were made out of the same material they made bunkers from. The first room after the door was empty and bare except for a metal chair and a small chest containing some material needed to tie someone to the chair. It was there in case someone needed to be detained by the spy.

He sagged gratefully against the metal door for a while before he straightened again and made his way over towards the fully stocked bathroom to clean himself and his wounds. After he had cleaned the dirt and canal water of his body he made his way over towards the bedroom to dress the nasty wound on his leg. Everything of importance could be found in the bedroom of the safe house; weapons were hidden under the bed, clean cloths could be found in the closet, money – mostly Euros, though other currency was present – was hidden in a small vault behind the headboard of the bed and the first aid kit was hidden in one of the drawers.

He was just pulling on a pair of clean jeans – two sizes too big for him – when the soft sound of the safe code being entered in the panel could be heard. Alex froze briefly before he dived towards the weapon vault underneath the bed, entered the code and pulled out a small hand gun. He quickly closed the button of his jeans – he didn't bother with a shirt – before he closed the weapon vault and pushed it once again underneath the bed. He carefully made his way over towards the door of the bedroom, hugging the wall as he moved.

He knew he wasn't actually allowed to kill someone – he wasn't one of the Double-O's after all – but his Scorpia training had also included what parts of the body he needed to shoot to take someone out.

He peeked around the edge of the doorpost, only to come face to face with a tall, slightly muscular blond haired man. His face could be described as handsome and his entire body screamed out how dangerous the man could be. The suit he was wearing was destroyed in some places and his cool, light blue eyes were alert.  
It was clear to Alex that they had been scanning the illuminated room. The lights in safe houses were only lit when there was someone inside but the safe house they were in on the moment should've been empty. It was, as far as Alex knew, an MI6 house only and, as far as he had been informed, he should've been the only '6 agent in Venice.

"You can come out," the man spoke and his voice sounded loudly in the otherwise bare room.  
Alex hesitated for a moment but gave in after a couple of seconds and he limped lightly into the bare room. He didn't drop or conceal the gun, even though he did point it towards the floor.  
The man blinked, visibly surprised at seeing a seventeen year old teenager in a safe house meant for spies. His eyes searched him critically for any threat towards his person, they stopped briefly on the gun – from which the safety had been removed – and the many scars decorating his chest.

"How did you get in?" he demanded to know as soon as he was done with his study.  
"Through the door," Alex deadpanned, "and I could ask you the same."  
"Fair enough," the man said as he stepped further into the room, "who are you?"  
Alex stared at him warily, "who sent you?"

An uncomfortable silence fell as they stared at each other.  
"My name is Bond. James Bond," the man introduced himself after a couple of minutes, "codename Double-O-Seven. MI6."  
"Alex, Alex Rider," Alex said in return, "codename Cub. MI6, I guess."  
Bond's eyebrow rose at his words but he didn't comment. Instead he asked, "how long and what do you need?"  
"Just for the night," Alex responded quietly, "and enough money to get back to England. You?"  
"Just for the night and some new cloths and weapons," was Bond's response, "you can have the bed. I'll take the couch in the next room."  
Alex nodded in agreement, placed the safety back on the gun and made his way back to the bedroom.

"You can take the weapons now," he told the other man clearly as he stopped just before he entered the room.  
"Thank you," Bond told him and he slipped past him and entered the room. He dropped in front of the bed and pulled the weapon vault out from underneath it. He entered the code and took out some of the larger hand guns and the ammunition needed.  
He closed the vault as soon as he had everything needed and placed it back underneath the bed before he rose from the ground and made his way over towards the closet from which he took some of the clothing.

"Good luck," he told Alex as he walked past him and with a nod towards him he disappeared into the bathroom.  
Alex stared after him for a moment before he entered the bedroom.  
He closed the door after himself and carefully hobbled over towards the bed to get some sleep.

He didn't sleep a lot that night – too paranoid about the fact that he wasn't alone in the safe house – but he managed to get some well needed rest. When he finally left the room in the morning it was to an empty safe house and a note which stated that the plaza in front of the safe house should be safe.

**oOo  
**  
The second time Alex met the man known as James Bond was almost four months after he had first met him.  
Alex had been called towards the building masquerading as a bank at the behalf of Blunt, who needed to talk to him about something – probably a new mission.  
He had been forced to make his way over to the Royal & General directly out of school so he was still wearing the school uniform, his bag was thrown over one shoulder.

He was cheerfully greeted by name by the woman behind the desk and he grumbled something back politely before he made his way over towards the lift. He pushed the button for going up and waited for the lift to arrive.

It pronounced its arrival with a loud ding and Alex slipped in. He blinked slightly as he noticed the man already standing inside of the lift but he ignored him in favour of pushing the button to the floor he needed to get off on.  
The lift doors closed and the lift started to rise slowly.

"Rider," the other passenger greeted him casually.  
"Bond," Alex responded in kind and he nodded towards him before he turned back to staring to the slowly changing numbers above the lift doors.  
"How is the leg?" Bond asked him courteously.  
"It's fine," Alex told him blandly.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence until the lift slowed down.  
"This is my floor," Bond told him as he moved towards the doors, "have a nice day."  
Alex just nodded at him and quietly wished him the same.

He realised two days later that the conservation was frightening similar to a conservation held between two colleagues who didn't know each other very well.  
Combined with the fact that the three women behind the desks knew his name and he realised that the way he had first introduced himself to Bond with 'MI6, I guess' wasn't quite right anymore.  
Even if he didn't want it, he was fully part of MI6 now.

**oOo  
**  
The third time he met Bond was a coincidence.  
He had been playing football with Tom and some other boys from school in the nearby park when one of them had kicked the ball a bit too hard.  
They all watched as the ball flew through the air towards the asphalted path.

"That's one Hell of a kick," Tom whistled impressed before he grinned and turned back towards the boy, "still means you have to go get it, though!"  
The boy, Quinn, grinned at the rest of them – as they had turned their attention towards the two of them as soon as Tom had made his comment – before he shot back, "I don't see you kicking the ball that far!"  
Tom acted as if wounded before he shooed Quinn towards the ball.

They all turned towards the place where the ball had landed, only to freeze when they were met with cold, blue eyes. The man was only wearing a pair of running shorts and a tank top and his muscles were clearly visible. What was also very visible was the fact that the football had hit the man and the cool, emotionless look he was sending the boys.  
It was also very clear to Alex that the man was armed.

"Er…," Quinn said, "maybe we should wait until he is gone?"  
The other boys agreed readily but Alex shook his head, "I'll get it."  
The others turned towards him.  
"It's your funeral," James called after him as he made his way over towards the man.

"Bond," Alex greeted with a curt nod as soon as he was near the man and he stopped right in front of him to pick the ball up before he turned back around and started to walk back towards the group of boys.  
He had barely taken two steps when he was halted by Bond.  
"Rider," the man called out softly.  
Alex stopped walking and turned slightly towards the man. He raised his eyebrow at him.  
"I heard about your promotion," Bond told him and he shot him a smile which softened his face from the cold, stern visage of an experienced spy – though his classmates wouldn't know that – into that of a handsome, charming man who had earned the title of 'ladies' man'.

The promotion he had mentioned was the one he had been given as a 'birthday present' by Blunt when he had turned eighteen. He had been hired full time at the age of sixteen – though he had been given the time to go to school and the like. He had been rightfully – according to Mrs Jones, Blunt and everyone else who had heard – promoted when he had turned eighteen.  
Instead of being commanded by with the ever emotionless Blunt he was now dealing with the more human person known as M. He did mourn the fact that Smithers had been traded in for Q, though.

"Congratulations on being lifted into the Double-O ranking," Bond told him and he walked forward until he stood in front of him. He offered him his hand. The move caused his shirt to lift slightly and his gun – a Walther PPK/S tugged away in a special holster at his right hand side – to be revealed to anyone who was paying close attention to the man. Alex had already known that the gun was there.

Alex looked warily at his hand before his eyes rose to meet those of the Double-O agent in front of him.  
After a couple of seconds he placed the football underneath his left arm and shook the man's hand.  
"Thanks," he said.  
Bond dropped his hand and stepped back, "I hope to work with you sometimes, Double-O-Three."  
And with one last nod he walked back to the path and started to jog again.

Alex stared after him for a couple of seconds before he took turned back around and walked back to the small group of boys.  
"What did he want?" was asked as soon as he reached them, followed quickly by, "you know him, don't you?", "who was he?" and "how do you know him?".  
"Nothing and no one important," Alex said with a shrug as he dropped the football on the ground.  
Tom looked slyly at him, "that was not what it looked like to us! You seemed to be rather close to me!"  
Alex shot him a flat look before he stated dryly, "he is a colleague."

The boys – Tom not included – shared looks.  
"We didn't know you had a job," James said with a frown, "since when?"  
Alex shrugged uncomfortably, "I've had this job for a while now."  
"Why didn't you tell us?" John asked, his tone a combination of curiosity and slight hurt.

Alex sighed as he lightly kicked the ball from foot to foot, his attention on the ball.  
He sighed again and raised his head, "look guys, I don't _want_ to talk about it-"  
"You have worked for them since your uncle died, haven't you?" Quinn asked, his eyes narrowed in thought, "it would make sense."  
"What kind of job is it?" James asked curious.  
Alex shifted lightly from leg to leg and the Beretta 418 tugged away in its small holster suddenly felt heavy, "it's nothing interesting, just a job as a paper pusher by the same bank my uncle used to work for."  
"Sounds boring," John deadpanned.  
"So, what do you do for that bank?" Quinn asked.  
Alex felt his face close of completely, "can we continue with the game?"

The small group stared at him, shocked and slightly freaked out.  
John raised his hands in the universal sign of peace, "woah, calm down!"  
Alex relaxed slightly, "look, it has nothing to do with you. I just…"  
He dragged his hand through his hair, "I just don't want to talk about it."

The boys shared brief glances before Tom said, "sooo, I vote Quinn as our new keeper!"

**oOo  
**  
The fourth time he saw 007 was during training.  
He had been sent to Brecon Beacons alongside the agents 006 – Alec Trevelyan – and 0012 – Sam Johnston – to train because of past injuries. He had been shot in his shoulder during his latest mission so he was forced to get back to how fit he had been before he had been shot. The time spent to heal hadn't helped with keeping his condition at its top either.

It had become clear in his first week that Trevelyan fit right in with the soldiers. He was just as rough around the edges and just as prone to yelling as the best of them. But the main reason why they were willing to 'hang out' with him even though he was MISO was because he seemed to hate Alex – the one person whom the SAS didn't want in their camp. In the eyes of the soldiers he was too young and too inexperienced to be there, no matter what MI6 stated.  
Trevelyan on the other hand just hated him. He hated how a nineteen year old teenager managed to keep up with both the spies and the soldiers, he hated how Alex was far better in both fighting hand-to-hand combat and firing guns and he hated how 0012 seemed to actually listen to a teenager as said teenager suggested something.

According to Johnston Trevelyan was just jealous of him. 006 had spent more time as a regular agent than both of them and it had taken him quite some time and effort before he had been promoted to the Double-O rank. Alex on the other hand had been an active agent for 4 years when he had been promoted.  
The fact that Alex was – if he could believe 0012's words – some kind of legend who was said to be in the same league as 007 was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Or in this case: turned a successful Double-O agent into an immature individual who didn't want to train with someone he deemed beneath him.

The relationship between him and 006 had become even worse when the soldier known as Eagle had appeared in their second week of training. He had been sent back to the camp for the exact same reason as them: to get his fitness level back to what it should be.

It hadn't taken long before Eagle had found out that the youngest of the three spies was the same boy who had joined his unit for a fortnight over five years ago – though Alex still wondered how he had found out in the first place as he could barely remember Eagle, so how could Eagle ever remember him?  
And just like that the mocking nickname of 'Double-O-Nothing' leaked out to the rest of the soldiers and the other two spies.

In the third week of training the only one who had actually called him by his official codename was Johnston, the rest had chosen to refer to him either sneeringly or mockingly as 'Double-O-Nothing'.  
But Alex had just ignored them all. He had trained, he had managed to keep up with them all and he had managed to get fitter. And that was all that mattered to him.

He was now in his fourth and last week of training and he couldn't wait until he finally could go home – though he was sure that he would be send on some kind of mission as soon as M got the green light.

A soft click sounded next to him and his head shot up towards the sound.  
"What's the matter Double-O-Nothing?" Trevelyan sneered as he placed his gun – which he had taken apart and put back together again – back down, "too tired to keep up with real men?"  
Alex ignored his words and turned his attention back to the front of the room where the instructor was explaining something about protecting the prime minister in case he was under threat.

Alex vaguely noticed the scowl on 006's face deepen and how 0012 shook his head in such a way that it was clear that he had had it with Trevelyan's behaviour but didn't know what to do with it. But he kept his attention firmly on the photos of the various prime ministers held under various threats, one of the pictures was frighteningly familiar to him.

It was a little over ten minutes later that a soft knock sounded on the door. The instructor finished his sentence and made his way over towards the door situated near the front of the room. He quickly opened it and stepped outside to talk to whoever had knocked. The soldiers all remained seated and silent, not like his old classmates who would have started talking as soon as the teacher was out of sight.

It didn't take long before he returned with his conversation partner – whom Alex recognized as MI6 agent 007 – in tow.  
The instructor walked back towards the front of the classroom while Bond slid into the chair next to Johnston.

No one visibly reacted to the presence of the agent but Alex noticed how Trevelyan's eyes narrowed slightly in anger.  
"What are you doing here?" he hissed at the senior agent.  
"I'm sent here to train with my new, temporary partner," Bond stated softly as he lounged back in his chair, his attention completely on the instructor, "and might I suggest you pay attention to the man's lecture? He might write a note about it in your file."  
006 scowled at the other agent but he fell silent and turned back to the instructor.

"Why are you here?" Trevelyan asked almost an hour later when the lecture was over and they were just leaving the building. They halted just outside of the building they had just exited.  
"I believe I already told you that I was sent here to train with my new, temporary partner," 007 drawled dryly.  
"Why would you need a partner?" Alex asked curiously. He ignored the angry, annoyed look that flashed across 006's face.  
Bond shrugged almost elegantly, "M decided that I needed a partner for the next mission. He told me that my new partner was about as crazy and suicidal as I am. And he told me that my new partner had the devil's luck."

"The two of you are partnered together?" Johnston asked surprised, "you're both known for working alone!"  
"Isn't it obvious?" Trevelyan mocked, "little Double-O-Nothing needs someone to holds his hand through his first, true mission!"  
Bond stared curious at the worked up man.  
"Double-O-Nothing?" 007 almost deadpanned, "now who could you mean with that?"

"We are going to be late for the next lecture," Alex said as he checked his watch. He didn't particularly care for the nickname but he really didn't need to hear the story of how he got it again.  
He raised his eyebrow at the others before he turned around and started walking towards the next building.  
"Right," 0012 said as he followed after him, closely followed by a sauntering 007.

**oOo  
**  
The fifth time he saw Bond was after their shared mission.

James Bond had been sent to stop one of the major drugs dealers, Alex had been sent with him as his partner and back-up as they favoured different techniques.  
Bond was the gentleman type of spy. He preferred to wear suits and he liked to kill people by using handguns. He could easily fit in with the middle and upper class of societies and he was known for easily seducing women.  
Alex on the other hand was more hands-on. He preferred to wear casual clothing and – though he could use both handguns and other guns with an ease that Bond didn't have due to the fact that he had been young when he had learned to handle guns – he preferred to fight others in hand-to-hand combat. He could easily go undercover or act as a cover for others. He fit right in with different type of groups from the lower to the middle class of societies. Alex was better known for befriending _normal_ people during mission.

But something had gone wrong during the mission – no surprise there with both of them having the luck of the devil – and both Alex and Bond had been captured. Bond had been taken first as the woman he had seduced had been working with the drug dealer in question. Alex had been captured when he had attempted to get the by then tortured man back.  
Both had been tortured before they had managed to get out again.

Afterwards Bond had ended up in the hospital for three months, Alex – who had been in their tender care for a little over two days – just had to stay for one night. The worst wounds he had, had been some shallow – but very painful – knife wounds spread over his body.

Alex found himself in a bar in a part of London he had never visited before five months later. He had agreed to meet up with some of his friends from Brooklands – Tom, Quinn, John and James – and they had somehow migrated from Hyde Park to the bar they were in now.  
"I still can't believe you chose to go into the army," Tom told James with a small laugh.  
James shrugged, "it's better than having to go to school again. And I prefer it over having to work by, for example, a bank. No offence Alex."  
"None taken," Alex said easily as he chucked the last of his beer down, "who wants something to drink? My treat."  
Sounds of 'beer' and 'ale' sounded and Alex slid out of the bench and moved towards the bar.

"Three beer and two ale please," Alex told the barkeeper and he placed the required amount of money on the bar.  
"Of course, sir," the barkeeper responded and placed the glass he had been cleaning down, took the money and started to fill the glasses.

"One dry martini please," a voice sounded from right next to him, "shaken, not stirred."  
"Just a moment sir," the bartender told him. Alex moved slightly until he could see the owner of the voice.  
"James," he greeted politely.  
The man turned around and leaned back against the bar.  
"Alex, how have you been?" he asked.

"Better than you," Alex answered wryly, "how are you? Still in PT?"  
007 flexed the muscles in his right arm slightly before he answered, "yes. I'll have to go back for training in a couple of weeks."  
Alex winced in sympathy, "how long do you have to stay there?"  
Bond just shrugged, "I'll hear that as soon as I'm cleared by the doctor."

"Your drinks, sir," the barkeeper said. Alex turned back around and took the serving tray.  
"Thank you," Alex told him before he turned back to James, "you alone?"  
"I'm not alone," 007 said as he accepted his own drink. He raised it towards Alex in a salute.  
"Good luck with your next mission," he told him before he turned around and walked with slight limp towards a table occupied by a young, beautiful, _lonely_ woman.  
"Good luck with your training!" Alex shouted after him. Bond stopped briefly to acknowledge his words before he continued towards walking towards the woman.

Alex shook his head in amusement before he made his way over towards his own table.

* * *

_I hope you liked this story (or drabbles).  
Reviews are much appreciated._

_~Marwana_


End file.
